


The Agent & The Analyst, Part 11: Blame

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Series: bodyguard [11]
Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is a surly government analyst and Jared is the bodyguard that always smiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Agent & The Analyst, Part 11: Blame

They’re quiet on the ride to the office. It makes the already long ride even longer, with Jared running a heat run, taking random twists and turns through city streets to make sure there’s no tail.

He highly doubts there is, given how long it’s been since the shooting at the market, but he’s not about to take any chances. 

The first words spoken come from Jared when they’re moving through the lobby of headquarters. It’s a simple, “This way,” with Jared’s careful hand at Jensen’s back to lead him through the inner hallways. 

Coworkers, ones Jared hasn’t seen in months since this detail started, are quietly watching as Jared marches Jensen right through their department and into his Director’s office. 

Williams stands immediately and two other suits rise from the armchairs. “Quite the detour you took,” the Director says dryly.

“Just taking precautions,” Jared replies. He can tell Jensen is tense, strung tight beside him. He sets his hand to Jensen’s lower back again for just a second, as if motioning his charge to the men in the room. “We’re here now and that’s—”

“All we need,” one of the suits says. He steps closer to Jensen, who sizes the man up with a stoic look. “Mr. Ackles, follow us.”

Jared knew this would be the situation, but he’s still struck with anxiety over it. He glances at Jensen and nods, trying to instill some confidence that Jensen will now be in good hands. They share one last look as Jensen’s taken from the room, then Jared has to face his boss. “Sir, I—”

“You’re due for debrief then a psych visit.”

The latter he wasn’t quite prepared for. “Excuse me?”

“Debrief with Ferris then you’ll see Collins.” Director Williams sits back at his desk and looks at Jared as if there’s no room to barter. “You and I will talk once your psych eval is complete.”

Knowing when to cut loose, he nods with a, “Very well, sir,” and heads down to the interrogation area to share the events at the market. He’s not sure what he’ll say to Collins, but he’s certainly not looking forward to that visit.

 

*

 

It’s another round of silence in Dr. Collins’ office, which is fine for Jared. He’s wasted most of his voice while debriefing with Ferris and Beaver. 

What isn’t fine is the soft click of the metronome flicking back and forth on the table next to Collins’ chair. Collins is seated comfortably with one leg crossed over the other, plaid shirt and corduroy jacket making him look much more like a college professor than a psychiatrist for some of the most lethal, high-tension agents in the government. His slight smile should probably provide some comfort, but it is actually putting Jared more on edge. 

Especially since the doctor hasn’t said anything after welcoming Jared in and offering him a seat. Jared’s initial reaction is to scope out the room—logging the framed diplomas, abstract pieces of art, and the five-face world clock on the walls. It’s an odd clash, to be certain, but perhaps this is what makes the Secret Service talk: mismatched décor and uncomfortable silence.

Jared has dodged bullets and been in high-speed chases to protect some of Washington’s most prominent people. He’s outlasted far worse than a psychiatrist in a staring contest.

But Collins’ smile never wavers, and somehow that’s more unsettling than anything he’s encountered in the last 24 hours. He fidgets in his chair and the doctor lifts an eyebrow in interest. Jared schools his face into something more controlled as he watches Collins back.

“How are you today?” Collins asks.

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“A little tired,” he offers. “It’s been a long day.”

Collins turns his wrist to look at his watch. “It’s only five-fifteen.”

Jared tries not to react past a casual, “Must be near the end of your day then.”

A perfectly normal smile does little to erase Jared’s thoughts that the doctor might be a bit deranged himself. “We’re more alike than you think.”

“How so?”

“My days don’t really end. They sort of just blend right into each other.”

Jared nods in agreement and continues to stare in return.

“Want to tell me about your day?”

“What about it?”

“Maybe how your partner almost died, or how you were shot at, or how the man you were assigned to protect shot and killed a man in front of you.”

Jared clears his throat and presses one knee against the inside of the armchair. 

“How do you feel about it?” Collins asks plainly.

“About which part?”

“Any of them.”

“I don’t feel guilty, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“About which part?” Collins tosses back at him.

“Any of them,” Jared replies with a smart look. “It’s part of the job. I’m used to it.”

“Are you used to creating attachments to your assignments?”

Jared feels his heart slow down and something hard settle low in his gut. The answer is no, but he’s not about to admit to the doctor what all has happened between he and Jensen. It may be a psychiatrist, and it may be considered a locked door with information kept inside, but Jared knows that whatever this man puts into Jared’s file will follow him for years. That is if Jared’s career lasts longer than today.

“Is that why you’ve put up this wall? Because you’re too attached to Mr. Ackles?”

Jared knows the answer to that, but he can’t voice it.

Collins tips his head, seeming thoughtful and caring. “What happened in the time between the shootings and when you came in here?”

“I already reported that in my debrief.”

The doctor reaches for the file at the side table and flips through it. He nods as he reads, only glancing up long enough to say, “Right, you escaped to a motel then took a three-hour tour around town.” He reads some more and leaves the file open in his lap. “What did you and Jensen talk about in that time?”

There’s something disturbing, painful, to hear _Jensen_ spoken so casually right here. Maybe because Jared isn’t sure he’ll ever hear the name again. “We didn’t really talk.”

“Oh?”

“No.” As Collins continues to watch, Jared lets out, “He was quite shell-shocked.” After another uncomfortable moment of quiet, he adds, “PTSD, certainly. He’d just shot and killed a man.”

“And he hadn’t before?”

“No.” The way Collins’ eyebrow slowly lifts on his forehead makes Jared think otherwise. Suddenly, he’s wondering just how it was that Jensen could expertly aim and fatally shoot a man who had appeared out of nowhere. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Like I said, Agent Padalecki, we’re both alike. We tend to keep our cards close at heart.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“What aren’t you?” Jared remains silent and Collins busies himself with taking notes in Jared’s file. “Tell me about Mr. Ackles and his shock following the shooting.”

“It’s natural, nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“How so?”

“You ever kill a man?” he challenges Collins. The doctor shakes his head with a kind smile and Jared nods back. “He did it in a split-second decision and barely acknowledged it for an hour.”

“And what did he say then? When he finally acknowledged it?”

Jared figures it’s okay to be honest here, so long as they’re not getting too deep into what happened after. “He said he thought he should feel more sorry about it.”

“Why do you think he didn’t feel sorry?” Jared shrugs, all nonchalant, as if brushing the point off. “Did he know the man?”

“No, he didn’t.” The longer Collins assesses him, the more Jared thinks about it and admits, “Not that I know of. What would that have to do with anything?”

Collins flips through the file some more. “If it was someone tied to his kidnappers, to the people threatening him, it could explain why he harbored no guilt about it.” The doctor looks up from beneath lowered eyelashes, as if he’s trying to sneak a peek at Jared. “Do you feel sorry for it?”

Jared takes a deep breath and finally breaks their staredown. He looks out the windows to his left where there’s a clear view of the inner courtyard with luscious green grass and blooming flowers that dot the lawn. His mind switches gears and he admits, “I feel sorry that Clarke got shot. He’s been my partner for years.”

“Do you blame yourself?”

“No, of course not.” Truthfully, he looks right into Collins’ eyes. “I blame the bastards who did it.”

“What do you blame yourself for?”

He closes his eyes, reimagines the moment when Jensen shot that man and Jared realized how expertly Jensen had taken a life. “That I gave Jensen a gun.”

“Jensen,” Collins murmurs as he writes in the file.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s the first time you’ve used his first name. Here or in your debrief.” Collins eyes turn soft yet his smile is still strangely twisted, as if he’s finally getting under Jared’s skin.

Sadly, Jared knows he has.

“Do you feel responsible for Jensen?”

“Of course,” Jared replies with a snort. “I was assigned to protect him.”

“Do you feel you did that?” Collins asks with an imploring look.

“Yes,” Jared answers solidly. He is certain that if any other agent had been trailing Jensen, worse would have happened to him. No one else was as dedicated to finding him after the kidnapping, and no one else would have stuck at his side like Jared did today.

“You do?”

“Yes,” he replies even more sure.

Collins nods with that same strange smile in place, closes the file, and shuts off the metronome. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Agent. Perhaps we will get to know each other better in the future.”

Jared swallows hard, mouth feeling dry and thick. “In the future?”

“Just in case,” Collins says as he offers Jared a business card.

 

*

Back in Director Williams’ office, Jared asks, “Have you identified the body?”

“Good evening, Padalecki,” Williams says with a roll of his eyes. “Have a seat, why don’t you?”

“Who was he?”

“Who was who?”

“The man Jensen shot,” Jared insists. “Who was he?”

Williams sighs, shuts the document he’d been sifting through, and leans back in his chair. “His name was Matt Cohen. DEA.”

Jared stutters out, “DEA?” as he leans against the back of an arm chair in front of Williams’ office. He’s not sure the chair is enough to keep him propped up; shooting a government officer will mean worse for Jensen than witness protection. “What the hell was DEA doing there?”

“Shut the door.”

“What were they doing there?” Jared barks. 

“Shut the damn door,” Williams yells back.

Jared does, a bit harder than necessary, but he can’t care at this point. “Why was DEA on the scene?”

“What were you and Ackles up to?” Williams asks instead.

“What?” he asks, taking a step back. 

“It’s obvious you two were closer than strictly necessary, so what were you up to?”

His boss’s glare is intense, shocking especially as it’s aimed at Jared, one of the Director’s favorite agents. Jared’s brain cycles through any possible answer. They all seem like they’ll get him into a shit-load of trouble, so he continues searching for a good response.

Williams isn’t having it, though, and he smacks his hand on his desk to get Jared’s attention. “What was going on between you two? What did you know about Ackles and his history?”

Jared shakes his head, feeling fuzzy and lost. “Nothing past what you’ve told me or what’s on file.”

“Why were you still covering him today?”

He knows how suspicious it all seems … DEA on the scene, something going on unknown about Jensen, and Jared still by the man’s side even after being removed from detail. He finally bites the bullet, figuring it will get him out of whatever mess his boss thinks he’s in. “We were involved,” he says carefully. 

“Involved in what?”

Jared chews the inside of his mouth and closes his eyes for a long moment. When he finally looks at his boss, it’s with incredible shame for what this will do to his career. “With each other.”

Williams stutters out half-formed questions, then it finally hits him, his face smoothing out into some form of shocked understanding. “How much did you know?”

“About what?”

“About his case.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jared replies with a harsh sigh.

Williams rubs over his face and glances around his office, as if avoiding Jared. “He was working for the FBI.”

Jared lets out a rough laugh. “I’m well aware of that.”

“Under protection, with immunity from a past crime.”

There’s a long list of possibilities for what that really means, but before Jared can ask, Williams blows out a long breath and points towards his door.

“Witness Protection will be taking him back. They’re likely transporting him in the next ten minutes. You better hurry.”

It takes just five minutes for Jared to rush up to the fifth floor and find the room where Jensen’s being held until his transfer. He has to lie and then push his way through, but he’s finally standing in the same room as Jensen. It’s only been a few hours since they were separated, but with all the information that’s been unearthed, Jared feels as though it’s been months. 

Jensen’s seated at a long conference table, surrounded by empty chairs, and he’s looking guilty as hell when he finds Jared standing across from him. 

A thousand questions swirl in Jared’s brain. All he gets out is, “Who are you?”

Jensen licks his bottom lip, bites on it, then flips it out with a sigh. “I wasn’t always an analyst.”

“I’m beginning to see that.”

With a frown, Jensen flips his hands out. “You’re pissed.”

“A little, yeah,” he replies with a laugh. “And a lot like I have no clue who the hell you are.”

“You didn’t know all this time?”

“No! If I did, I wouldn’t have run up here to ask you that.”

They stare at one another, and Jared feels his chest tighten the longer the silence lasts. He frowns when Jensen still won’t talk, fights back tears that are starting up. He hates that for all that they have shared, he’s completely in the dark. “Jensen, please.” 

Jensen clears his throat, shifts in his chair, and sets his palms flat to the table. His eyes are focused on them as he seems to recite his story. “I was one of the big hackers cracking into any machine I could. Until the Feds caught me then recruited me for their side.”

Jared stares, unable to really process Jensen’s former life as a criminal. Though he’s somewhat thankful it wasn’t anything bigger, like a drug runner or hired gun. “Under witness protection,” he mumbles, remembering Williams’ comment. 

With a nod, Jensen says, “For about a decade. Until now, at least. No one had ever found me.”

“After those initial threats … why didn’t they just move you?”

“I was close to finding what they wanted.”

“Which was what?”

“A mole in the DEA.” 

It clicks into place, and Jared feels both impressed by Jensen and scared for him. “Was Cohen the mole?”

“Who’s Cohen?” Jensen asks, shaking his head. 

He feels horrible bringing it up, but he must. “The man you shot.”

Jensen shakes his head again and swears under his breath. “No, but you know … where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

“You think it’s bigger than just one?”

“I don’t think anything could shock me anymore.”

Jared smiles and nods in agreement, even if he’s still feeling twitchy about the whole issue. “Doesn’t answer how you knew how to shoot a gun.”

Jensen shrugs, almost begrudgingly smiling. “I grew up in Texas. It was a hobby.”

“You grew up in Texas,” Jared says softly. “I had no idea.”

Jensen sadly smiles and motions his hands out. “I guess we never really talked about a lot.”

Slowly, Jared thinks about how artificial their relationship has been, and he shakes his head with grief. He begins to wonder if he was more invested in this whole matter than this man he hardly knows. “No, I guess we didn’t.”

“But we will, right?”

The door opens to the two suits from earlier, both of them sizing up Jared. One takes a few steps towards Jared while the other rounds the table to Jensen. The second one clears his throat. “Mr. Ackles, we’re ready.”

Jensen stands and follows them to the door, then stops before he leaves the room. His face is tight, almost mad, but he nods determinedly and keeps his eyes on Jared. “We will.”

“If I ever see you again,” Jared mumbles, hoping the men don’t hear him. 

“You’re a government agent,” Jensen offers with a light smirk. “It’s not like you can’t figure it out.”


End file.
